I was at work. Xyqa/Doochessofprunes worked at the same place, and I had recently rekindled her interest in Zappa via a bunch of mixed tapes. My friend called me at work and told me - it was probably Monday morning. I hung up the phone, and xyqa came over to my desk, and I told her: "Frank's dead." We were kind of bummed that day.

_________________Let's hear it again for the London Philharmonic Orchestra!

I was watching John Zorn in a solo sax performance at Roulette in NYC the moment Frank was supposed to have passed. Found out from an early morning phone call the following Monday, went straight to Howard Stern and it cheered me up a little, despite some nasty jokes about sphincters and cigarettes. Stern kind of summed it up by saying that the world is a less interesting place without Frank Zappa.

I was cutting bushline in an occasionally frozen swamp north of Port Perry when my friend, who was drying out in the truck back at the road, heard it on the radio. He called me on the walkie and told me that 'that Zappa guy you're always playing died of cancer'. It made my shitty day shittier and I remember that I got home, got wasted and listened to Zappa all night. Then I didn't want to hear any music for weeks afterwards. It just threw the current top 40 radio pablum into such stark relief.

I was only 10 years old at the time, but I was familiar enough with his music to be bummed out. I'd heard my dad mention to me a few months prior that Frank was dying, so it wasn't a huge shock when my mom was reading the newspaper that night and said, "Oh, Frank Zappa died." The next night, one of the local radio stations did an hour-long tribute, inviting listeners to call in with their requests. It was fun hearing stuff like "Bobby Brown" and "Dinah Moe Hum" played uncensored over the airwaves.

It was my first winter in Nor-Cal when my wife and I restarted from scratch (hell it was less than scratch). I was working construction still and I was riding a bike to the site since we had one car and my wife used it for work and school. It was cold as hell and I rode home to warm my feet by the wall heater, she heard it on the radio and knew I would be there and called me. All I could think was life sucks, I also remember the TV coverage was shit up her.

I just reread this thread for the first time in 5 years. I found it interesting that nearly everyone here interpreted the subject as "Where were you when you heard that Frank Zappa died", which, for most older folks here, was sometime on 6 December 1993; whereas I took the subject line literally as to where I was at around 6 PM PST 4 December 1993 when I was oblivious to the fact that FZ had just died. Answers to the former, of course, elicit shared emotional responses; answers to the latter I think reveal a curious juxtaposition of random events.

I just reread this thread for the first time in 5 years. I found it interesting that nearly everyone here interpreted the subject as "Where were you when you heard that Frank Zappa died", which, for most older folks here, was sometime on 6 December 1993; whereas I took the subject line literally as to where I was at around 6 PM PST 4 December 1993 when I was oblivious to the fact that FZ had just died. Answers to the former, of course, elicit shared emotional responses; answers to the latter I think reveal a curious juxtaposition of random events.

Ha, you're right! Where was I when he actually died? Probably at home doing homework or something.

I just reread this thread for the first time in 5 years. I found it interesting that nearly everyone here interpreted the subject as "Where were you when you heard that Frank Zappa died", which, for most older folks here, was sometime on 6 December 1993; whereas I took the subject line literally as to where I was at around 6 PM PST 4 December 1993 when I was oblivious to the fact that FZ had just died. Answers to the former, of course, elicit shared emotional responses; answers to the latter I think reveal a curious juxtaposition of random events.

Bill your over thinking it, unless it was a major live event then you would not remember the moment only when you heard about it. Like you we did not find out until Monday and up here the coverage of Frank was crap, I am sure it was taken more seriously in LA. As to figuring out where I was and what I was doing on the Saturday before...good luck, hell I don't even remember what I had for breakfast this morning...LOL.

I just reread this thread for the first time in 5 years. I found it interesting that nearly everyone here interpreted the subject as "Where were you when you heard that Frank Zappa died", which, for most older folks here, was sometime on 6 December 1993; whereas I took the subject line literally as to where I was at around 6 PM PST 4 December 1993 when I was oblivious to the fact that FZ had just died. Answers to the former, of course, elicit shared emotional responses; answers to the latter I think reveal a curious juxtaposition of random events.

Bill your over thinking it, unless it was a major live event then you would not remember the moment only when you heard about it. Like you we did not find out until Monday and up here the coverage of Frank was crap, I am sure it was taken more seriously in LA. As to figuring out where I was and what I was doing on the Saturday before...good luck, hell I don't even remember what I had for breakfast this morning...LOL.

From 24 Dec 2003 20:55, second post in this thread

Bill wrote:

I was at the movies most likely, which was my Saturday night routine back then (Frank died about 9PM Eastern Time). Coincidentally, I had played guitar along with the Joe's Garage recording of Watermelon earlier that day.<br><br>I didn't hear about Frank dying until I was driving to work Monday morning. That's when I recalled what I had played on Saturday.<br><br>Bill<br>

i was at a christmas parade, taking a picture of my nephew about that time. so, when i got it back from the drug store (and on subsequent viewings), i had a very mixed feeling. happy/sad, maybe even bittersweet.

That was a very rough time in my life, losing one job, then another, then getting another... trying to stay in my apartment... I just don't remember other than I had already had in my possession an LA Times article my brother had sent me interviewing Frank about his illness and his battle against it. So I was not surprised either, still I had always wanted to have a chance to write-in his name on the Presidential ballot... I missed my chance in '92 because I was in the hospital on election day... Needless to say I was disappointed that I would never get to do that....

I was living in Sydney having emigrated there 14 months before. I had a night on the piss.I was playing in a band called 'attractive smoker premiums', doing weird stuff in odd times. Pete Miller on Chapman stick, me on guitar and flute, plus drummer. Band folded when Pete had heart surgery. Reformed again as 'tion' once I'd kicked his ass out of bed. TT

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